


What Could've Been

by bratchet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sorta Smut, flirting/teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratchet/pseuds/bratchet
Summary: Pieces taken from the third movie with a bit of twist :)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	What Could've Been

Hermione lugged the massive book that Hagrid, her Care of Magical Creatures professor, assigned for his first year teaching the class. He thought it was quite clever and funny, seeing as the book would viciously attack anyone who attempted to open it, hence the name, The Monster Book of Monsters. The whole class walked past Neville Longbottom, who ignored his teacher’s instructions to stroke the spine before opening it, and was being attacked by the book straight into the ground. Hermione glanced back towards Neville before placing the book onto the nearest rock she could find and turning to face her two best friends, Harry and Ron. 

“I think they’re funny,” she said, looking as unamused as ever.

“Oh, yeah. Terribly funny,” said a sarcastic voice coming from behind the three Gryffindors. 

They recognized that smug voice without even turning around to see who said it. Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned to face its owner, while Harry and Ron annoyedly snapped their heads towards the back where he was standing. It was obviously Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin who hated Muggles, Half-bloods, Mudbloods, anything that wasn’t pure. 

“Really witty,” he said, pausing for a second, “God this place has gone to the dogs.” 

Harry, looking the most irritated out of his friends, slowly removed the bag-strap that laid on his right shoulder, letting the heavy bag drop to the ground, almost pathetically. 

He stared at Draco, who condescendingly nodded his head towards Hagrid and said, “Wait until my Father hears Dumbledore’s got this oaf teaching classes.” 

Draco looked to his left and his right for the reactions of his two mindless followers, Crabbe and Goyle, who in turn sniggered at his oh so funny joke.

Harry continued to stare at Malfoy, grimacing at his stupid smirk and his unnecessary commentary, and began to walk boldly towards the three Slytherins, “Shut up, Malfoy.” Ron shook his head in disbelief at Draco, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she could already smell the trouble that was coming. Harry walked closer and stopped midway between the circular crowd that his classmates had created .

Draco and his friends looked at Harry, and predictably smirked with their amused sarcastic tone, “Oooh.” Draco wouldn’t allow himself to be talked to that way. After all, he’s a Malfoy, and Malfoys were superior Purebloods that lived in luxury and got off on bringing down those lower than them. He took off his bag, prepared to tell Harry off, and dropped it onto Crabbe’s arm, letting its weight sink to the ground. 

He took one step forward. 

Harry could see Draco had grown over the summer, as he was almost a head taller than he was last year. 

Two.

His silver eyes shined an even lighter grey, an almost white colour under the sun’s rays. He could see Draco’s lean figure through his boney cheeks. He wondered if the kid had ever eaten anything but the sweets and chocolates his mother usually gifted him through the Owl Post every afternoon. He looked at his lips, and even from a few feet away, he could see how thin and somewhat pale they were. Harry’s heart stopped for a second, eyes glancing back and forth from those attention grabbing areas, in order to admire the beauty that was Draco’s distinct features.

Three.

Draco bit his lip as he silently approached. Harry, being shorter than him, was forced to tilt his head slightly up just to meet the eyes of his rival. There was no doubt that by now, Harry had a perfect view of the boy right in front of him. His beautiful, pale platinum hair, which looked almost unnatural, drew Harry’s attention away from his beautiful grey eyes. His jawline was so apparent and sharp that he felt like it could cut through paper as easily as a scissor. Even his green tie tightly pushed up against his throat, tucked away in the black sweater he was wearing, made Harry briefly imagine what it would feel like if that tie was his own hand, his own palm, his own fingers. It was all so ethereal, and the masterpiece of it all made a shiver go down his spine.

Harry’s mind stopped with all those thoughts when Draco looked him in the eyes, offering one last wicked smile before shooting his head up, as if there was something behind Harry. Harry examined the other’s face and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion for a brief moment. Draco’s smile turned into a frown, his right hand frantically pointing towards the sky with a terrified expression on his face, “D-Dementor! Dementor!”

Everyone’s head shot towards where Draco was pointing in a quick panic until they heard obnoxious laughter behind their idiotic heads. Harry sighed in disbelief for having fallen for such a childlike trick. He turned back towards them putting their black hoodies on, mimicking what the dementors look like. “Ooohh,” was all that was heard as they brought their hands up, sardonically twiddling their fingers as if the whole situation was a spooky joke.

Hermione noticed that Harry was just standing there, taking all of their incessant pranks and tricks. She walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face away from the Slytherin gang. Roars of laughter rose from behind them, but they didn’t allow it to cause another problem. They walked away silently, as Hermione was trying to calm Harry down, whispering, “Just ignore him.”

-

That night, Harry constantly thought back to that moment. He couldn’t stop peeking at Draco throughout the rest of the class. He couldn’t stop thinking about the features of his face: his eyes, his lips, and his hair. It made him want to steal Draco and hold heated eye contact for hours. He wanted to kiss those lips that allowed disgusting words to pass through. He wanted to run his fingers through the smooth blonde hair, tugging and grabbing at it until Draco threw his head back and pulled Harry closer. He remembered looking at him long enough to see him stroke the spine of the Monster Book with his slender, elegant finger. He wondered what it would feel like to be touched by them, grabbed by them, and used by them. He remembered noticing that thick ring that sat on his other finger. He remembered wanting to know what it would feel like if he slid that finger inside Harry’s mouth, maybe even with another.

It would be an understatement to say that he was only a bit turned on at the moment, feeling his boxers get a little bit heavier. His cheeks grew hot and red as he imagined all of those dirty scenarios. He was beginning to feel restless.

Harry drew the curtains around his bed, which gave him more privacy to ponder. He flung his head, which held his messy black hair and crooked, thin glasses, onto the pillow. Harry tried to distract himself from his thoughts, but only one thing ran through his head. Draco Malfoy. The boy he had loathed for years now. The boy who constantly berated his two best friends because one was poor and the other was muggle-born. The boy who bribed himself onto the Quidditch team with the best broomsticks just to show Harry up. 

Maybe Harry was just overthinking what he felt. As a result, he kept thinking about all the horrible things Draco did in only three years. He tried to get him in trouble for being out past curfew, even though that also gave himself punishment for being out at the same time in his efforts to catch them breaking the rules. He walked up to Hermione’s face with a sneer just to call her a filthy mudblood. He laughed at Ron, along with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team, because his slug curse deflected towards himself due to his broken wand. Even today, he ridiculed Harry for fainting on the Hogwarts Express because of a dementor feeding off his already minute happiness. 

He should hate him. He should be punching those smug smiles, not fantasizing about leaning into them with his own. But he didn’t. He didn’t care that Draco did those things, not at this moment anyway. All he cared about was what Draco was doing right now. Was he sleeping? Was he doing his homework for that blasted Potions class? He wanted to know how Draco felt. Was he happy? Sad? Does he like that girl that’s always hanging around him, Pansy Parkin-whatever? Was he thinking about that scenario as much as Harry was thinking about it? Was he thinking about Harry at all? 

He rubbed his face in frustration; the frustration caused by not being able to get answers for the multitude of questions that bombarded his mind. 

He sat up and parted the curtain slightly to look outside the window. It was pitch black, except for the few stars that shined in the distance. Harry sighed and took off his glasses, knowing it was far too late to still be thinking about Malfoy. He decided to just forget about him, and to never think of this moment again. He placed his glasses on his bed-side table before closing the curtain once more and pulling the blanket up to his chest. He closed his eyes, still accidentally thinking about the boy, but less and less, as his mind drifted off into a deep sleep.

-

The next morning, he remembered his plan, “Just don’t think about Malfoy. Don’t even give him a glance.” But that seemed entirely too difficult as they shared almost every class together. He knew that third year students had to take Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Herbology, and two or more electives, which meant he had to see him at least seven times. Eight now, because they were both in Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class. 

He only glanced at the blonde a good fifteen times before realizing that he really needed to stop yielding to his own filthy needs. But he couldn’t stop it because Draco was just so god damn attractive. 

Harry tapped his quill on his head multiple times whenever he caught himself staring intensely, blushing. He noticed one thing though: Malfoy never looked at him, an observation that completely brought him down. Harry thought to himself, “Fifteen times. Fifteen times and not even ONE glance?” The more he thought about his situation, the more dejected he felt. 

Wait a minute, dejected? Since when has he ever wanted that prat's attention? “Stop it, Harry, you’re better than this,” he told himself. Of course, that wasn’t the last time he would keep his horribly failing plan up.

-

Draco was walking to one of his classes later in the day before Crabbe caught up to him and whispered something in his ear. “Mate, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Harry’s been watching you for days now,” he said.

At those words, the blonde’s eyebrows rose up. He faced his tiny, chubby friend with hollow eyes and looked back towards the front. He continued walking towards his next class, pretending like what he heard didn’t make him curious.

He was approaching his Potions class, his favorite subject, which was not because Professor Snape tended to favor him over everyone else, but rather he enjoyed concocting his own vials of medicines and formulas. The precise addition of each ingredient that was so mentally satisfying. The idea that dropping even a bit too much of one thing could change the resulting mixture, was incredibly intriguing. 

As he stepped inside, he already noticed those obvious Gryffindor colours - the pretentious flashy scarlet and gold scarves. He rolled his eyes as he went to sit down. Across the room, he spotted Potter, who was grinning at Ron while Hermione was most likely teasing the boy about his ridiculous red hair. He immediately looked back down towards his bag and pulled out his quill and notebook, promptly placing them on the desk in front of him.

Professor Severus Snape was teaching something about a Wolfsbane potion, and stated how it can relieve the symptoms of lycanthropy. “Odd, but interesting,” he thought. As Draco was writing down everything his professor was saying, he couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes piercing through him. He thought back to what Crabbe said and wondered, “Is Potter looking at me right now?”

He wanted to look up to check, but that would only result in insanely awkward eye contact. So, he kept writing, pretending not to feel the green eyes burning through his clothes and his skin. 

Even if he managed to lift his head up, his eyes moved all over the room, forcing himself to glance everywhere except at Potter’s seat. He tried to stay concentrated on the lesson, but Snape’s face was far too intimidating to focus on for a long period of time. 

Draco, through the corner of his eye, noticed slight movements in the general area where Harry was sitting. He felt his cheeks burn up at the thought of noticing the tiniest things even while trying so hard not to. He closed his eyes for a second, inhaled through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. He tilted his head up, and his eyes immediately shot towards Harry’s direction. 

Thank Merlin that boy was not looking at him when he finally caved in, as Malfoy swore he felt a slight tug on his upper lip. Was it a smile? Had he noticed that godforsaken mess of an outfit he wore? There was a loose tie draping around his exposed collarbone, and a rolled up white dress shirt that fit perfectly over his chest and his upper arms. If it were anyone else, he knew McGonagall would instantly reprimand them about keeping up proper appearances. However, Harry was not just anyone. He bit his lip with a slow tug and lazily watched the boy who looked like a sexy mess.

Realizing that he may have been staring a tad too long, he shook his head and went back to writing about whatever Snape was still drawling on about. He gave himself a mental slap in the face for thinking that Potter was even a tiny bit attractive. 

His quill was gliding along the paper with his graceful cursive, but his mind was a jumble of clumsy thoughts. Draco pictured Harry in his mind: green eyes, pink lips, a darker complexion than his own, and his trademark silly taped round spectacles lying on the bridge of his nose. Oh how he longed to just rip those right off and stare at the bare face behind them. How he yearned to kiss those pink lips, slide his tongue all over and bite his bottom lip until it tore enough to bleed. How he desired to hear beautiful sounds coming out of that pretty little mou--

He jumped slightly, and his thoughts were cut short by the sudden bell signaling the end of their classes. Draco peeked at his notes and realized he’d been writing off the lines with barely comprehensible scribbles. He closed it shyly, a bit embarrassed as to the reason behind such messy note-taking. Still a bit flustered, he grabbed his quill and put it away along with his book. 

He tried to stand up to get going for his dormitory, but was immediately shut down by his own body as he realized that he was half hard. Blaming it on puberty, he sat for a few more minutes to wait it out. He pondered, “What was happening to him? Why is he suddenly noticing that dense scarhead?” He scowled at the immediate answer. That git, Crabbe.

-

It was finally Spring at Hogwarts and everyone was enjoying the warm breeze that blew across their faces. It was also the perfect season to visit Hogsmeade, a village that housed a multitude of cottages and shops that almost every wizard could enjoy. From Zonko’s Joke Shop to Honeydukes to the Shrieking Shack, students were always excited whenever McGonagall announced the days they would go. All students that received parental permission were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, which meant all except Harry, as he couldn’t get his form signed by the ruthless Muggle guardians that he called Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. 

Yet, even with Dementors guarding the castle entrances, he wasn’t deterred from attempting to sneak into the village using the invisibility cloak that he inherited from his father. So when Professor McGonagall declared the next date for visiting Hogsmeade, Harry waited for all students to exit the castle before doing so himself. He spotted Hermione and Ron at the back of the group and sneakily maneuvered his way towards them. 

“Hey guys,” Harry whispered in a sudden, mischievous voice that startled both his friends into a slight jump.

Ron turned his head to see that no one was behind them, and gave Hermione a raised eyebrow. “Did you hear something?” he asked.

Without a reply, Hermione used one of her hands to feel around behind her, while the other grabbed for her wand. She searched until she felt some odd texture that made her flinch her fingers. She faced the apparently empty space, and connected the dots. “Harry? Is that you?” she muttered, trying not to be heard by the students right in front of her. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry replied rather quickly as he would rather not be jinxed by Hermione. 

“What are you doing? You can’t be here. What if McGonagall finds out?” she said, addressing the obvious situation.

Harry rolled his eyes, although she couldn't see it, and replied “Isn’t it obvious? I want to visit Hogsmeade with you and Ron.”

Before Hermione could respond, Ron spoke, “Ah, just let it be Hermione, he won’t get caught if we don’t make it obvious. But, blimey Harry, aren’t you hot under that thing?”

“It’s not too bad, I can just take it off when we arrive. Everyone will be spread out by that time.”

Ron gave Harry a quick nod and a smile before facing towards the front to avoid any unnecessary suspicion from the other students, who were already spinning their heads to look at him.

As they strolled all the way to Hogsmeade, Harry couldn’t help but look for the one person he’s been obsessing over the last few months. He’s not much taller than everyone else and he could barely walk past Ron and Hermione, but he saw him. Anyone could make out that white blonde hair and now his eyes were glued to it. 

Harry wondered to himself if he should corner Draco when he was alone or put flowers next to him while wearing his cloak. Should he even attempt to find the boy? What should he even do when he does manage to get him alone? Will Draco just walk away irritated or stare at Harry curiously? Can Harry even manage to speak to him without stuttering or drooling like an illiterate bloke? What could he even do against the taller boy? Should he just confess to him? How would Draco reply? Would he laugh in his face? Or would he smile and accept the confession? That last thought caused Harry’s lips to rise into a grin.

Harry managed to contemplate all sorts of scenarios and their outcomes before realizing that he had already made it into Hogsmeade. Everything looked so picturesque and enticing that, in the end, Harry sought to push those questions to the back of his mind and just enjoy the village’s snacks and games with his two best friends. 

-

Harry removed his cloak as he entered Honeydukes. His jaw dropped as he saw every kind of treat there: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, Droobles, creamy Nougats, honey-coloured Toffees, Chocolate Frogs, Acid Pops, Cauldron Cakes, just to name a few. 

He was incredibly amazed and the first thing he grabbed was Treacle fudge, the closest thing he can find that matched his favorite Treacle tarts. Hagrid had given Harry some to try during Christmas and it was decent enough for him to want to eat it again. He also bought some Sugar Quills, Acid Pops, Licorice Wands and some Toffees for later. 

As Harry began to unwrap the plastic that hid his Acid Pop, he noticed Draco walking past the anterior of Honeydukes alone. Even though Harry tried hard to forget about his presence, his body acted quicker than his brain and immediately exited the shop to follow him. “Uh, hey Ron, tell Hermione that I’m going to go for a walk. It looks pleasant outside.”

Ron acknowledged what Harry said without looking up. “Wait for us, we’ll be done in a minute,” he uttered, but by the time he raised his head, Harry was gone.

-

Draco was wandering around, trying to find a quiet spot away from the noisy crowd. Aware of the large group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors gathering inside, he looked up at the sign, Honeydukes. “Hmm, maybe not,” he thought to himself, remembering the stack of treats on his bedside table. With his hands in his pockets, he walked past the sweetshop, directing himself straight towards the isolated area with blossom filled trees and a lonesome butternut bench. It was pretty much empty except for one couple, who were snogging, several feet away: Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff, and Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw. 

Draco positioned himself away from that sight and towards the pathway that led to the rest of Hogsmeade. He sat, rather thoughtfully, as he gazed at the mass of students and wondered what it would be like if one particular boy was here. Bending his elbow on the bench’s armrest, and boredly resting his chin on his open palm, he wondered when it would be time to go back to Hogwarts. He usually enjoyed Hogsmeade visits, if it meant getting away from the school, the assignments, the teachers, and the classes for a few hours. Still, he couldn’t help but recognize that he’s been extremely uninterested in the last couple of trips.

He gently thumbed the buttons on the cuff of his dress shirt, circling it continuously, as if he were hypnotized by the round shape. Sensing someone approaching, his eyes shot up towards the path, assuming it was Crabbe or Goyle. His eyebrows rose at the pleased realization that it was neither of them. He straightened his back and watched as Harry Potter, with an Acid Pop in his mouth, was walking straight towards him. 

Draco immediately gave a smug smirk, and said, “Potter, I believe I’m already sitting here. Go along and find some other bench to sit on.”

Harry tilts his head at the blonde boy, puckers his lips around the stick of the pop, and shakes his head defiantly, “Actually, I came here looking for you.”

Draco responds flirtatiously, “Ah, I see, couldn’t keep away from me now, can you?”

Harry simply rolled his eyes, and responded somewhat amused, “Sure, Malfoy, whatever makes you sleep better after a long day of crass remarks.” 

After registering what he just said, Draco paused, and stood up, “What are you even doing here? I recall seeing you beg for McGonagall's permission to come here in the winter.”

“I have my ways, don’t worry about it,” Harry replies, tilting his head up to look in the eyes of the taller, lean boy. He noticed that, even in this warm weather, Draco decided to wear an uncomfortable dress shirt over a short sleeved tee. He found it fairly attractive, but mentally noted that the boy cared about his appearance more than physical comfort.

Draco looks at him, his eyes flitting from the lightning-bolt scar on Harry’s forehead to the Acid Pop that he was still sucking on. Being close enough to see, he studied his lips: how they were a bit coated with sweet saliva, how they wrapped around the plastic stick, and how they parted to allow his tongue to taste the whole candy. Intrigued, Draco couldn’t control his own tongue from licking his bottom lip.

“Lovely, as long as you don’t use those methods to sneak and pervertedly watch the bints around school,” Draco finally replied with a sneer.

This caused the black-haired boy to tilt his head once again, but this time with a determined smirk, “What makes you think I want to look at the girls in our school?”

Draco squinted his eyes a bit, and with a curious tone asked, “Are you saying you’d rather look at the boys at our school, Potter?” 

“Wow, whoever said you were an unintelligent git would be shocked by that clever observation, Malfoy.” 

Draco dropped his jaw in disbelief, but instead of throwing back another brilliant remark, he gave a breathless laugh with a charming smile. Unless he was tormenting some first-years or mocking some innocent kid who just wanted Harry’s autograph, Harry swore he never saw him smile. Not like this. He gazed at the beautiful, but shy quirk of his lips and, as if his eyes were cameras, examined every part of Draco’s face so that whenever he shut his eyes, he could still see those alluring qualities.

Harry hadn’t realized it, but Draco’s grin spurred one of his own, and now it was Draco who was staring at him. Harry immediately caught himself and twisted his neck, as if scanning the area for anyone. To his right, he caught a glimpse of the horde of students striding into Zonko’s Joke Shop. To his left, he saw rows of large sugar maple trees, and perhaps a pair under one of the tree’s shade. Behind Draco, he spotted an area beyond one of the cottages that was secluded and cut off from the pathway. Harry gave himself a small nod as he addressed all three possible locations for him to run off to before he grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him towards the back of the cottage. Draco, to Harry’s surprise, didn’t pull away automatically and actually willingly followed like a sheep to a shepherd. 

They halted when Harry stopped pulling Draco, but now Harry hesitated as he didn’t actually think of a plan past getting Draco alone. He scratched the back of his head as Draco studied the awkward expression growing on his face. Now that they were completely isolated, Harry couldn’t make eye-contact with him, let alone speak to him. The silence was cut through when Draco finally said, “Potter, why’d you drag me here?”

Harry heard the soft-toned curiosity that came out of Draco’s mouth. The question didn’t sound hateful nor did it sound cheerful, but Harry found it odd that this was the reaction he was receiving instead of the one he was expecting, which was “Get your hands off me, Potter” or “How dare you touch this fine cotton shirt with those filthy fingers of yours?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, “Um, honestly, I-I don’t know,” he swallowed his saliva, unsettled by the stutters that were caused by the intense inspection of Draco Malfoy. He angled his head up and finally made contact with those ghostly grey eyes. He winced at Malfoy’s bewildered expression and obvious impatience, prompting him to speak again, “Well, um, actually, I kind of wanted to tell you something,” his hands clamped nervously to his pants, “I-I think I like you,” he said with a tiny nod, glancing at Draco, and this time a little louder and more firmly, “Yes, I think I like you.”

Draco was clearly shocked. He stared at the boy with wide eyes and for a brief moment, his jaw stayed slightly ajar. He smiled gently when he noticed Harry’s sweat droplets sliding past his scar, and decided to have a laugh about it. “Merlin Potter! You made me wait five uncomfortably long minutes, just to tell me that?” he said with fake exasperation and a smile on his face. 

Harry was speechless because it wasn't immediate disgust, pain, rejection, but rather, he was blessed by Malfoy’s bright expression: the whiteness of his upper teeth, the evident grin lines rising on his cheeks, the thick rounded eyebrows resting calmly on his brow ridge. Harry felt his shoulders relax, and let out an exhaled sigh of relief as he looked back towards where they were standing earlier.

Draco saw him physically unwind, and decided it was a good time to ask him a question, “How long?”

At the unexpected inquiry, Harry’s eyes shot back towards Draco, repeating, “How long?” he paused, "How long what?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling, "How long have you liked me, Potter? Or thought you liked me." 

Harry's cheek reddened, and Draco chuckled at the visible contemplation. 

Harry mumbled, "Maybe a few months ago? Sometime around November." 

Draco smirked at the surprising honesty coming out of Potter. He licked his dry lips before asking about something else, "Why?"

With that, Harry's heart was beating so fast, he couldn't keep up with it. He could hear the thrumming in his ears and shifted his focus towards the ground. He didn't want to respond to that question because he didn't even know himself. All Harry remembered was that one day, he hated Malfoy's guts, and the next day, he couldn't stop fantasizing about holding his hand and ruffling that gorgeous pale hair. 

Harry kept his eyes down, biting the inside of his cheeks, until he suddenly felt a hand touching the top of his head. 

"Say Potter, do you ever comb your hair? It looks like a bird's unkempt nest," Draco said, twisting some hair strands between his fingers. His attempt to change the subject and lighten the mood was unsuccessful as he looked down at Harry, who was clearly still uncomfortable, and frowned.

Draco thought for a moment, uncertain of what he should do. He glanced behind him, making sure no one was watching, then turned back towards Harry.

He apprehensively moved his hand directly under Harry's chin, lightly lifting it so that he could stare at the anxious green eyes. His lips turned into a nervous thin line as they made concentrated eye contact. "I'm sorry for the sudden interrogation, I didn't realize it was that unbearable," he examined Harry's anticipating expression, and continued, "If I'm being truthful, I think I like you too."

Harry just stared like a lost puppy at the straightforwardness. He was clueless. What should he do now? Should he continue to blink nonsensically? Should he jokingly punch Draco's shoulder with a chuckle, "ah come on now" ? 

Harry did none of the above, as he goofily smiled, shyly scratching his burning cheeks with the tip of his index finger. The uncomfortable tension lessened, causing a slight tug in Draco's lip as he admired the cute reaction of the black-haired boy, and then humorously remarked, "Well, I'm glad we got past that." 

Harry laughed at the normalcy of the moment they were sharing. "Yeah, that was so awkward. I'm thrilled we're done with that," Harry replied as he smiled so vibrantly that it outshined the multiple colours already present on his face: the grassy coloured eyes, the crimson cheeks, the rosy lips. But all Draco could see was the snowy white smile that beamed under the sun's bright golden rays.

However, Draco's priority changed when his eyes fell on Harry's lips. Draco never kissed anyone before and neither had Harry. The former was slightly tense, but made sure to hide it under his calm, stoic expression. 

Malfoy wondered if Harry knew what he was thinking. He briskly scanned the details of his face, collecting the unspoken permission, and leaned in. His lips brushed Harry's so softly and so delicately that it felt like he was pressing his mouth on cotton candy. He wanted more, but he was unsure. His arms awkwardly dropped to his sides as he wondered what the bloody hell he was supposed to do with them.

Harry shivered at the sudden contact, not knowing how to get his body to react. He didn't lean in, but he didn't quite back away either. Malfoy's scent was so apparent that Harry couldn't tell if it was cologne or just his natural fragrance. Draco smelled like rich creamy vanilla with hints of sweet citrus fruit. Instead of thinking of what he could do, he just allowed this dreamlike situation to continue as he closed his eyes in idyllic pleasure. 

Draco had closed his eyes without realizing, but when he slowly opened them, he steadily retreated from the quick gentle kiss. 

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the loss of touch, and without thinking, grabbed Draco's shirt and pulled him in, shortening the distance between them. He hungrily placed his lips on Draco's, who in turn, brought his hands up to Harry's face to draw him closer. Draco felt the warmth of the smaller boy's cheeks as he held them in his palms. He effortlessly tilted Harry's head so that their kisses could achieve maximum area. Their mouths opened and moved in a messy, amateur way; the timing when one leaned forward mismatched when the other leaned back. Harry, ultimately frustrated with that issue, wrapped his hands behind Draco's neck in order to jerk him forward and keep him steady. He couldn't help but inhale the intoxicating aroma that surrounded Draco. His mind went fuzzy, unaware of the way he moved under Draco's manipulation. 

Draco moved his hands down, resting it securely on Harry's waist before gripping and pulling him closer, causing a gasp to escape. The blonde grinned into the kiss and pecked him once before he licked Harry's bottom lip, begging for entrance. Harry lowly groaned as his mouth was intruded by something hot and moist. He allowed his tongue to dance with Draco's, causing the latter to aggressively seek more, as he slowly tugged Harry's bottom lip. He swore he heard a small moan leave the black-haired boy, which only drove him crazier because he knew that they couldn't do more behind the innocent little cottage. His tongue entered Harry's mouth once more, tasting the sweet lollipop that he so tantalisingly sucked in front of him. 

Everything felt so surreal and exhilarating. Harry Potter was kissing Draco Malfoy. Who would've thought that this unlikely pair would be swallowing each other whole as their classmates were only several feet away? The warm weather added onto the intense heat that they both were experiencing.

From the path, Draco heard the muffled McGonagall calling all the students to the center of the village so that they could walk back to Hogwarts. He ignored it, but unfortunately, Harry didn't, as his hands slid down to Draco's chest in order to push him back. 

How long have they been kissing for? The overwhelming ecstasy caused them both to lose track of time. Draco's eyes shifted towards Harry's now swollen and red lips. All he could think about was slamming his own into them once again and forgetting about everything else. 

Draco didn't want to return to Hogwarts if it meant he couldn't see Harry as often. He didn't want to return if it meant he had to pretend to loathe the famous Harry Potter. And he certainly didn't want to return if it meant leaving the currently disheveled boy who blinked at him with desperate eyes. 

Harry was breathing heavily, as if he just outran a blood-hungry werewolf. He managed to catch his breath as he observed Draco buttoning up the few front buttons that somehow came undone. The pale boy cleared his throat, and unwillingly said, "We should go back, or at least I should before they start wondering where I've gone off to." 

Harry gave him an understanding nod, and chuckled a reply, "You're right." He rubbed the back of his neck, slightly sore from having to keep his head tilted up to match Draco’s lips, and searched around for his invisibility cloak. He spotted it by the bench where they first began talking, and silently shooed Malfoy off to go to where the rest of his classmates were. 

As Harry walked towards the solitary butternut bench, he heard footsteps quickly follow behind him. He anxiously turned to face the culprit with his hand already reaching for his wand. It was just Draco.

"Harry," he said breathlessly and then with a joyful grin, "I'll see you around school, yeah?" 

Did he just call him Harry? 

Harry nodded, "Yes… Draco," then watched him hastily stride back towards the massive horde of students. He saw him tap the shoulders of Crabbe and Goyle, and heard Goyle exclaim, "Where the bloody hell have you been?," returning the hefty bag that Malfoy left behind with them, "You've been gone for over 30 minutes!" 

Draco shrugged and smirked mischievously at the two nitwits, and watched as they staggered ahead of him to follow McGonagall. After they were a safe distance ahead, Draco turned his head one last time to look at Harry, who was already putting the cloak over his head, and grinned at finding out his secret method to sneaking around.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed !  
> This is my first attempt at making one of these and any suggestions to improve my works would be greatly appreciated. 
> 
> :)


End file.
